


Dream a Little Dream of Me

by icycas



Series: Smut Oneshots [20]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Dry Humping, Fantasizing, Hand Jobs, Kinda, M/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Pillow Fucking, Pillow Grinding, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Short One Shot, Smut, Wet Dream, dtao3, idk what to tag it as, pillow humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28422162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icycas/pseuds/icycas
Summary: His best friend had been the subject of his recurring dreams for quite some time now, and it was torturous. Every time George closed his eyes, he was tormented with the mirage of Dream—a mischievous recreation of his friend who found the greatest amount of pleasure in teasing George every few nights with promises of helping him out, but never fully delivering.Request: George humping his pillow thinking of Dream
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), dreamnotfound - Relationship, gream - Relationship
Series: Smut Oneshots [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869757
Comments: 21
Kudos: 664
Collections: you've read this fucker :]





	Dream a Little Dream of Me

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Please don't read this if you're uncomfortable with this pairing being written about explicitly. This story is entirely fiction, but these are real people. Please don't harass anyone in this fic about pairings or their sexuality – I recognize that Dream and George are both straight; this is just self indulgence. If either of them ever state that this type of content makes them uncomfortable, I will delete my work.

It had been a long day. Such a long day in fact, all George wanted to do now that the sun was retiring was sleep until his alarm screamed at him in the morning to wake up. The British boy collapsed into his mess of sheets, pillows, and linen. He didn’t bother making his bed anymore, especially since all he ever did was stay home and relive the same routine every day. 

Sighing at the absolutely heavenly feeling of relaxing into his mattress, George felt his eyes grow heavy; they whispered to him to just fall asleep, and so he did. The brunette fell asleep with absolutely nothing on his mind.

* * *

_Hands teasingly trailing down his body; they were warm and felt rough. Green eyes and soft brown freckles and a warm smile with pearly white teeth sparkling in the pale moonlight. A hushed “is this how you like it?” asked from the pink lips of the other._

George awoke groggily to the cold darkness of his empty room half hard, instinctively rolling his hips in the air for some kind of friction. Groaning, George slapped a hand across his face and checked his phone under his pillow. _4:39 AM_ the screen flashed back to him with a blinding white light. He squinted his eyes, tossing it aside as he flipped over to be face first on his bed. 

There was no way he would be able to go back to bed with the little man downstairs screaming at him to do something. Trying to remember the bits of his dream that were slowly starting to drift away, George felt the lingering touches again. _Dream._

His best friend had been the subject of his recurring dreams for quite some time now, and it was torturous. Every time George closed his eyes, he was tormented with the mirage of Dream—a mischievous recreation of his friend who found the greatest amount of pleasure in teasing George every few nights with promises of helping him out, but never fully delivering. Before anything could ever happen, the brown-eyed boy would always awake, hard and desperate.

Grabbing the spare pillow next to him, George stuffed it under his crotch, straddling the mass of cotton as he lazily humped against it. Moaning softly at the much desired friction, the boy played out the scenario in his head. 

Hands teasingly trailing down his body; they were warm and felt rough. Dream’s green eyes and soft brown freckles and a warm smile with pearly white teeth sparkling in the pale moonlight. A hushed _“is this how you like it?”_ asked from the pink lips of the other as he slipped a hand under George’s waistband. Kissing along the British boy’s pale neck, Dream would stroke George slowly, dragging his hand up and down lazily to tease the whining boy. He would swipe his thumb across George’s tip to spread the precum along his length. “Come on, you know I like it when you cry for me,” he would whisper, breath tickling the brunette’s sensitive ear. George would shiver, bucking up his hips desperately to try and tell the other boy to speed it up.

George bit his lip to hold back his whines, burying his head into his bed as he thrusted shallowly. It wasn’t nearly as good as the touch of another person, but it would have to suffice. Unfortunately, Dream was currently about 6,979 km away from being able to touch George, and it seemed unlikely that the green-eyed boy would be able to get to George in time before his libido died down. Settling with what he had, the sleepy boy pulled his trousers down to expose his cock, gripping the pillow harder as he rubbed himself faster. He moaned hoarsely, voice deeper than usual due to being woken up so suddenly.

“Wish it was me, George?” the voice asked, husky and gravely, nipping along the shell of his ear and licking it. “It’s not enough is it?” George shook his head. No, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Dream snickered, tightening his grip on George’s leaking cock and stroked it faster. George followed along the rhythm of his imagination with his thrusts against the pillow, drooling slightly into his bed as he humped deeper into the plush cushion. 

“Wish it was you,” George whispered, hips stuttering from the greatly appreciated friction. “Wish it was you, Dream,” he moaned, thighs shaking as he felt the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching. “Fuck, I want you so bad. Want you here, Dream,” George said into his bed like a prayer. He closed his eyes again, imagining what the taller boy would do next.

“George~ you have no idea how desperate you look right now,” he said teasingly to him. Dream used his other hand to crawl up George’s shirt, playing with his nipples. The British boy leaned into the touch, pressing down harder to try and feel more of the sensation. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he praised. Like an incubus, the ghosting of Dream’s touch encouraged George’s release as if he was actually there. “Go on, George. Cum thinking about me,” Dream teased. 

Thrusting one final time, George released into his pillow, burying his throbbing length as far as it would go into the cotton, imagining it was inside Dream’s warm hand. Almost as fast as he had shown up, the fantasy dispersed, leaving George alone again in the cold darkness of his empty room to fall asleep again. 

**Author's Note:**

> trying to chip away at requests again OTL


End file.
